


Burning Souffles

by allimarie_xf



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: (just a little), Action, Angst, Arrow (TV 2012) Season 7, Canon Compliant, Drama, Eventual Fluff, F/M, Family Feels, Feelings, Romance, come enjoy the ride with me!, i just needed them to clear the air first, look i just had some stuff to work through all right?, not as smutty as I expected, post-7x13, this is meant to be a baby reveal story
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-17
Updated: 2019-02-27
Packaged: 2019-10-30 11:33:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 11,703
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17827772
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/allimarie_xf/pseuds/allimarie_xf
Summary: Felicity really needs to have a talk with Oliver. Which they will really, definitely do just as soon as she stops being kidnapped.





	1. Nothing Stays the Same

 

_If my best isn’t good enough then how can it be good enough for two?_

God dammit, why did song lyrics always pop in her head to serve up their hard truths at the _worst_ possible moments?

Like now, for instance. When Felicity found herself tied to a chair in a dark, dingy basement, and no one the wiser about her location. And also pregnant. With no one outside of herself and the hospital aware of that particular detail.

Oh god, if she got murdered here it meant Oliver was going to find out about their baby... _their_ baby...their _baby_...from the hospital. Or the Medical Examiner’s office. She squeezed her eyes shut at the thought. Nope, not going to think about that. What she was going to do was sit down and have a talk with him - a _real_ talk - just as soon as she was out of this predicament.

It wan’t as if she hadn’t been trying to reach him. For days, weeks, months really. Since William, since Emiko. Since Slabside. It had been a hell of year so far, for both of them.

But Oliver was hurting, and he needed her. So she’d stepped up. She’d put her anger, her fears, her identity crisis aside, because his need was more immediate. He needed her, and moreover, she wanted him to need her. She _needed_ him to need her.

_Third verse, same as the first._

There had been signs that he was beginning to let her in. A tiny smile here, a squeeze of her shoulder there. A hand extended toward her, seeming to offer more than just the contact of skin on skin. But the tragedies kept rolling in one after another, and it felt like every step forward was followed by three steps back. Or worse.

Like that morning.

A shiver of something dark and foreign ran down her spine at the memory of the confrontation in their bedroom. The most recent one, that is.

When she’d said her goodbyes to Curtis a few days ago, something he’d said had struck her. “It feels like you’re struggling to find your purpose too.” It was like he’d found the one weak chink in her armour and driven a knife right through it. Since then, she hadn’t been able to get the words out of her head.

Ever since Oliver had come back from Slabside, unmasked, and begun working with the SCPD, a tiny part of her been struggling to understand where she fit in. John and Curtis had ARGUS, Dinah had the SCPD, and Rene seemed content doing whatever he was doing. It took her awhile to realize that deep down, she had been hoping that Oliver’s return would somehow cause the team to re-form, and she’d be able to take her rightful place among them.

And while that hadn’t immediately happened, she’d believed things had finally started to come together once the rest of the team was deputized to work alongside the SCPD. She’d quietly begun setting up a place for Overwatch in their living room: adding an extra computer or two, and installing and improving dozens of programs that the team had always relied on for monitoring, tracking, searching, communicating, and cataloguing. It felt amazing.

But that morning Oliver had made it clear, in no uncertain terms, that things were not back to normal.

She’d approached him cautiously, aware that she hadn’t exactly informed him of her resumed vigilante activities. She expected him to be surprised. She hadn’t expected him to be angry.

He was standing at the dresser pulling a sweater over his head, and she fit herself against the door frame, watching him. Even now, after all these years, she was stuck by how startlingly beautiful he was, all long lines and hard muscles and perfect bone structure. When his head emerged through the hole in his shirt, he sensed her gaze and turned toward her expectantly.

She still wasn’t used to the distance in his eyes.

“So, I know you probably have work lined up for you already, like assigned cases or something like that,” her chipper tone faded just a little bit, because the truth was she didn’t _know;_ he hadn’t actually told her very much about his new job at all, “but in case you and the team were looking for something to do, I got a pretty solid lead on something this morning.”

His eyebrows drew together. “A lead?”

“Yeah. It turns out there’s been a series of thefts from the Star City headquarters of about a dozen different chemical companies - nothing too noteworthy, when taken individually. But my program gave me an alert because it turns out that, taken together, the various chemicals that were stolen can be used to make some pretty nasty stuff of the explosive variety.”

Oliver’s face stilled as she spoke, which should have alerted her that something was wrong, but Felicity was excited, and when Oliver spoke his tone remained deceptively mild. “Your program? Which program is that?”

“Oh, nothing special, just my usual algorithm that analyzes reported criminal activity and seeks patterns in the data.” She smiled, feeling that tiny surge of pride that always accompanied her small accomplishments as Overwatch, a feeling of having made a difference. She hadn’t realized just how much she’d missed that feeling.

But that feeling evaporated rapidly as she watched Oliver’s expression shift from still to stony to stormy so quickly that she could only track it because she knew him so well. “Why are you running that program?” There was absolutely no mistaking that tone in his voice.

Just as there was no mistaking Felicity’s predictable response to his challenge. She pushed off the door frame, straightening her spine and stepping toward him. “Why shouldn’t I be running that program?”

He blinked at her and breathed deeply through his nose while his eyes never left her face. She recognized the signs of him gathering his composure, but what struck her was the realization that this might be the longest he’d kept his eyes on hers in months. “Felicity.”

She looked aside abruptly, not wanting him to see the emotion that was suddenly rising in her eyes and clogging her throat. She blinked, swallowed, and waited for him to continue.

His voice was surprisingly gentle, which only set her on edge. “You can’t…”

Her eyes snapped to his. “Can’t what, Oliver? What can’t I do?”

He looked away. “I work for the SCPD now. I have to take my assignments from them.”

She stepped toward him, hand outstretched. “Okay then. I’ll put what I have on a thumb drive and you can take it to Dinah. Call it an anonymous tip, or whatever. Then she can _assign_ you to the case.” She smiled tentatively. Willing him to consider the logic of her proposal.

“It’s not that simple.”

Her hand landed on his chest, fingernails scratching lightly against the fabric of his sweater. “I don’t see why it can’t be. With you and the rest of the team deputized to work in the city, with the full support of the SCPD, we can be even more effective than we used to be.”

Oliver stepped back abruptly. _“There is no team, Felicity!”_ He paused, and Felicity snatched her hand back from where it was still hovering between them in the sudden silence. He shifted wary eyes toward her. “I need you to understand that.”

Felicity gaped at him, ready to argue but suddenly speechless.

“I need you to stop pretending that things haven’t changed.” His eyes were earnest, pleading. And they left Felicity gasping as if he had slammed her in the face with a brick.

She stared back at him, the blood rushing loudly in her ears and drowning out any sense of reason. Her breaths were shallow and rapid, but her voice was calm. “I know things have changed, Oliver. That’s the one thing you have made very, very clear.”

“Felic -”

But she was already walking away, and he didn’t follow. Five minutes later, as she sat at her computers blatantly disregarding his wishes, she heard him wordlessly leave the apartment.


	2. Breaking Windows

Felicity’s arms and legs had long ago lost feeling, and the steady drip of water from some dark corner was really starting to get to her. 

She might also be annoyed by the irritating fact that if she hadn’t been so reckless, so determined to prove her usefulness to Oliver, she might not have rushed in to an unknown enemy base without backup and without informing anyone else of her plans. 

Ugh, Oliver was going to be  _ pissed. _ Even if it was partly his stupid fault.

She knew, even that morning while she made her preparations, that she was being irrational. She just couldn’t bring herself to care. The data she’d compiled was enough to suggest the nature of the operation, but not its purpose. She had no idea who was behind the thefts, who the targets of the potential bombs were, or when they would be used. All she had were questions that needed answers. And an address. 

Someone needed to reconnoiter the area. And while she was perfectly aware that the mission was dangerous - which was why she had wanted to enlist the team in the first place - the urgency of the situation had sent her rummaging through her closet for comfortable stealthy clothing. She told herself the fact that it was broad daylight would work to her advantage. She figured that whoever was behind the thefts was probably busy during the day, anyway. Her hasty mental calculations led her to conclude that the potential threat of the situation outweighed any risk she might be taking. 

Thinking back on it now, though, she had to admit that her heart-pounding fury had probably figured too heavily in her decision. 

Especially because she had failed to consider the possibility that this was a large-scale operation. One that had guards patrolling the perimeter. Guards that had quite easily discovered her as she stood outside a nondescript warehouse, attention entirely fixed on the data being downloaded to her tablet and then uploaded to her cloud storage. 

The good news was that before they had discovered her, she had managed to hack their network, uncovering evidence of their entire operation: personnel, detailed records of criminal activity, communication logs, plans, charts, and timelines - and those were just the broad sketches. It was more than enough to put an end to their enterprise, as well as put scores of people behind bars.

The bad news was that none of that information was going to be immediately helpful in her current situation. In fact, all evidence led her to the depressing conclusion that these people would have no qualms about murdering her, even though she hadn’t given them specific reason to, as far as they knew. 

So now she was here, alone and separated from her tech. Still tied to a chair. Still pregnant. And suddenly really having to pee. 

It was the having to pee part that gave her an idea. Not a great idea. Just the beginnings of an idea. Really just the first step toward an idea, with the idea part of the idea soon to follow, hopefully.

“Hey! Excuse me! Hello!” She waited, listening for any indication that another human might be within earshot. It had been at least an hour since the angry man with large muscles had tied her to the chair and withdrawn on a promise that she’d be “dealt with” later, but she thought she’d been hearing the sounds of human activity upstairs. “Is anyone up there? Hey! I need to talk to someone!”

She kept up the racket for at least ten minutes before the door slammed open above her. “What is the problem, you crazy bitch?” 

The gruff voice was unfamiliar  but that didn’t surprise Felicity. As she was dragged into the facility, she’d seen dozens of people engaged in a variety of unknown tasks. 

Felicity let fear creep into her voice, which honestly came more naturally than she liked to admit. But it served her purpose, which was to convince her captors, who thankfully hadn’t recognized her, that she wasn’t a threat. Which, depressingly again, was more close to reality than she wanted to acknowledge. “I’m sorry! Look. There’s been some kind of mistake. I don’t know why you’re holding me here, but if you let me go, I swear I won’t say anything. I -”

“I don’t think so, honey. What are you, a journalist?”

“A journal - what? No! I -”

“Save your breath and sit tight. I’m sure we’ll figure out what to do with you sooner or later.” His eyes dropped to her body, heavy with implication, and Felicity couldn’t stop the shudder that overtook her.

Her mind was starting to reel in fear, her plan being crowded out by memories of countless other times she’d been held hostage. In an underground casino, in Queen Consolidated with the Count’s hands wandering over her body, held in Slade’s insane grip, his sword at her throat, caged in Damien Darhk’s cold prison, to name only a few. But in almost all those times, Oliver had known exactly where she was. This time, he didn’t even know she was missing. 

It took a considerable amount of effort to refocus on her plan. “Please,” she whispered. “I have to go to the bathroom.” She met her captor’s eye directly, letting him see the real fear and desperation behind the tears in her eyes. 

The man sighed and rolled his eyes. “I didn’t fucking sign up to be a babysitter.” He pulled a switch knife out of his back pocket and opened it menacingly under her nose. “Don’t try anything or you’ll regret it.”

Felicity swallowed, nodding, and the man crouched to the side of her legs and cut the twine around her ankles. He moved behind her and released her hands before grabbing her roughly by the arm and pulling her out of the chair. “Come on.”

She stumbled behind, struggling to stay upright on feet that were assaulted by pins and needles. 

 

* * *

 

Oliver was struggling to focus. It wasn’t just that he felt redundant as he followed the uniformed officer into a dingy apartment building following a tip that a suspect in an armed robbery lived there, though he did feel redundant. He’d been working with the department for weeks and, aside from the few random emergencies that had cropped up - all of which would have involved him regardless of his official association with the SCPD - the day to day work was mundane. Tedious. And absolutely not requiring any of his unique qualifications. 

But this morning it wasn’t boredom that sent his attention wandering; it was a distinct feeling that he had fucked up with Felicity.

And not just fucked up in the usual amount. He was self-aware enough to know that Felicity was currently tolerating a fair amount of bullshit from him. Not that he believed it was bullshit, but he knew that she thought so. Just like he knew that she had decided to give him the space to work it out. Space, but not unlimited license to shut her out.

They hadn’t discussed that part specifically, but he knew her terms from bitter experience.

He again felt the sharp twist of some unnamed emotion, penetrating the barrier he’d so carefully constructed. He knew it wasn’t possible to immunize himself against all emotions, of course. He’d already felt plenty of things since his release from Slabside. Shock over the revelation of his sudden sibling; anger and shame and guilt at the past actions of his parents; a tiny bit of hope at the promise of forming a relationship with his sister; devastation upon realizing that he couldn’t provide his son with the life he deserved. Fear over the immediate physical threat posed by Stanley Dover. And shame, again, that he had again been the cause of that threat. 

But through it all, even through her confession that she had been changed by the time they’d spent apart, he had not worried about Felicity. 

She was his rock. She was always there for him, supporting him, bolstering him, loving him. She never let him doubt it. 

And if his current embargo on emotions - both the feeling and the expressing of them - meant that he hadn’t really been actively returning that support and love, he knew that she understood. 

Of course she knew that he loved her. He just needed time. And she knew that too. Right?

Oliver stood back as the uniform knocked loudly on an apartment door before stepping to the side. “SCPD! Open up!”

He absently nocked an arrow and waited. The officer knocked and shouted again, and seconds later the door opened, revealing a scared-looking man who instantly raised his arms in surrender. “Don’t shoot!” 

Oliver sighed, stepping through the door to secure the apartment as the suspect submitted to handcuffs. Only half his attention was required to ascertain that there were no other people or threats in the apartment. All in a day’s work for the Green Arrow. He rolled his eyes internally.

The words flitted through his mind, unbidden: there is no Green Arrow without Overwatch. And as an image of Felicity, sitting in front of her computer at home, flashed through his mind, he felt the words acutely.

As long as she was in his life, he could handle everything else. But if she left him, he would be left with nothing. 

And he knew with a flash of clarity and a sinking sense of dread that he might have finally pushed her too far. 


	3. Falling Apart

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y'all are very demanding and I love it. Don't stop ;)
> 
> Meanwhile, I'm still working on the final chapter (it's a tricky one) and already I'm contemplating adding an epilogue. 
> 
> An E-rated epilogue, if there is any interest?

 

The second Oliver hung up with Dinah informing her that he’d be taking a personal day, he was dialing Felicity. He urgently needed to hear her voice, even if only to hear her yell at him. Maybe especially to hear her yell at him.

But the only answer he got was the impersonal automated message as his call went to voicemail. Tamping down an irrational sense of fear, he decided to text her in case she was unable to answer the phone. 

_ <Hey. You busy?> _

He forced himself to wait two minutes before he began to panic. After all, she could be in the shower, which was pretty much the only place she ever went without her phone.

_ <Felicity. Are you there?> _ He sent the second message just to give himself something to do as he waited.

She  _ always  _ responded, even when she was angry with him. It was part of their unspoken code. It was part of what made them such great partners; they’d always been able to set aside their personal differences and work together to get the job done. 

It was one of the things he’d first loved about her, long before he’d put a name to the feeling. That inexplicable alliance that united them, without the need for words, across distance, and even at cross purposes. Before they’d had any reason to trust each other, they were a team. They relied on each other without question, true partners to the core. He had leaned on that connection heavily over the years and it had always held firm, even through their darkest times. He had never even considered the possibility that it could be broken. Until now. 

And that realization nearly sent him to his knees right there in the street, but instead he sagged against his Ducati, gasping with unnamed emotion, clutching his phone in a strangling grip. 

He ended up waiting another two full minutes with no response before cold dread settled in the pit of his stomach. There were only two possible reasons why she might be ignoring him. Either she was in danger, or she had finally walked out of his life for good. 

He raced home, not daring to consider which it might be.

 

* * *

 

Felicity glanced around surreptitiously as she was pulled toward the restroom, taking stock of everything she could: the location of likely exits, the accessibility of any hackable tech, and, most importantly, the whereabouts of her tablet and phone. Unfortunately, there was no sign of either of her devices or any unmonitored computers, so she let herself be pulled along to her destination, dragging her feet as much as she dared.  

Her captor rapped loudly on a door before yanking it open, revealing a single, very dirty, restroom. “Be fast. Don’t make me come looking for you.”

Felicity swallowed and hastily stepped through the door, closing and locking it against his disgusting leer and its implied threat. She felt a huge weight lift at her sudden privacy, even if it was mostly illusion. 

 

* * *

 

Oliver threw the door to their apartment open, ignoring the automated voice announcing his arrival. “Felicity?!”

His first glance immediately showed him that she wasn’t in the living room or the kitchen, and though he stalked into their bedroom, his heightened senses had already informed him that the apartment was empty. “Felicity?”

He opened the door to William’s darkened room, just to be sure, before he went to their walk-in closet. There, he found evidence that she’d rapidly changed clothes, trying and discarding several options and not bothering to pick them up off the floor. His stomach turned over at the possibilities presented by that scenario, but at least the majority of her clothes were still present, as far as he could tell. He moved to her dresser, opening one drawer after another, confirming that they were still overloaded with her soft things. His eyes unexpectedly brimmed in relief at the sight, and only the urgency of the fact that she was still missing stopped him from lifting a pair of rocket ship pajama bottoms to his face.

Instead, he took a clarifying breath and moved toward her workstation, which was of course locked, but which, of course, she had given him access to through a key code that combined an alphanumeric pass code with biometric scanning. He was in and searching for clues in a matter of seconds. 

He never would have had a hope of understanding her complicated system of organization - one on-site server with several networked clients, each hosting multiple operating systems and numerous hard drives serving very specific purposes, and each connected to high capacity cloud storage - if he hadn’t spent years learning how to navigate it. Thankfully, however, by now he understood it almost as well as he understood the woman who masterminded it, so he was able to quickly sift through for evidence of where - and why - she might have gone.

He checked her calendar and her various email, messaging, and social media accounts first, hoping against hope that she might have decided to go out and be social - an unusual, but not entirely unheard-of, occurrence - but there was nothing to suggest she’d been in contact with any of her friends lately. Nor was there any evidence of any impending business meetings. 

His heart sank as the lack of other explanations seemed to confirm his growing suspicion that her absence was connected to the lead she’d tried to give him that morning. He found himself more than half-hoping that she’d tried to enlist the help of their former team, but there was no evidence of that, either. He moved on to her directory of cases, sorting by last modified date.

There.

She’d labeled it “19-02-15_Chemical Theft” in accordance with her standard “YY-MM-DD_Subject” naming system, which tracked with everything she’d told him about the case. He opened the file and scanned her summary document for anything that could help him. He was on his feet as soon as he saw the address, and he’d called Dinah for SCPD backup before he was out the door.

 

* * *

 

Felicity continued to drag her feet and stumble as she was hauled back toward the basement. “Please, can you slow down? I can’t feel my legs. I think you did permanent damage when you tied me.” 

In answer, her captor pulled harder on her arm, and she let herself fall to her knees. “Bitch, what is wrong with you? God, I am going to enjoy killing you.”

Felicity looked up at him in horror from where she was still on the ground. “I told you, I can’t feel my feet….” It was a weak ploy, which she intended to use to convince him to tie her more loosely when they got back to the basement, but if he was really planning to kill her, she supposed it wouldn’t make any difference to him whether or not she could walk. She got slowly to her feet, heart beating in her throat. She was watching his face for any sign that he might be joking, but his expression didn’t change from its terrifying blankness.

When she was back in her chair in the basement, she noted that he he tied her extra tight.

 

* * *

 

It took every ounce of Oliver’s restraint to wait until the SCPD were five minutes away before he entered the compound. And even so, the only reason he waited at all was that it was clear, to his practiced eye, that it  _ was  _ a heavily guarded compound, which meant that, while he could probably slip in unnoticed, he might require some kind of distraction to get Felicity safely out. 

But the waiting was torturous because he was certain, without a shadow of a doubt, that she was in there. He didn’t allow himself to consider the possibility that he was already too late. 

Instead, he listened to the SCPD chatter over his comms, waiting for his moment, and sparing a second to be grateful that, unmasked, he could now operate in broad daylight without fear of repercussion. Not that anything would have prevented him from saving Felicity. Nothing ever had, and as long as there was breath in his body, nothing ever would.


	4. Believing in Love

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the chapter that made me, *ahem,* think we'd need an E-rated epilogue. For balance. :)

Felicity closed her eyes and let her mind drift. Her captor had left her about twenty minutes ago, with a menacing, sincere promise that he’d be back to kill her soon. She believed him.

Unsurprisingly, she found herself thinking of Oliver. And the still-almost-unbelievable fact that she was carrying their child.

Honestly, the fact that a child had even been conceived at all should have been unthinkable, except for two things: first, Felicity had gone off the pill for the first time in years when Oliver went to Slabside, and somehow she’d had trouble remembering to take it regularly during the first few weeks of his release. That accounted for how they’d overcome the biological roadblock, but the second roadblock they’d overcome was harder to explain, and that was that the physical and emotional distance that Oliver had kept since returning from prison somehow did not extend to the bedroom. Which alternately drove Felicity crazy and _drove her crazy._ Because how could he be so cold with her during the day, standing apart where he used to crowd, pulling back where he used to smother, glancing away where he used to gaze, yet run _so hot_ at night?

Even without the confusing back and forth, his coldness was hard enough to deal with. A broken, damaged Oliver wasn’t new to her, and she had fully expected him to let her help him heal, just as he always had. Except for some reason this time was different. This time she hadn’t been able to reach him through her usual channels. For the first time in their relationship, her words, her gaze, her trust and belief in him, were not enough. For the first time ever, _she_ was not enough, and it was breaking her heart. Because she had never had any sort of back up plan as far as Oliver was concerned. She had never needed to consult anything other than her heart in order to reach him.

In the end, the solution she had landed on was the only one available to her: patience. Wearing him down with offers of clear, unmistakable love and support, until he had no choice but to acknowledge and accept it. And for the most part, except for external circumstances that kept setting them back, it seemed to be working, albeit very, very slowly.  

She would have been able to take more comfort in their slow and steady progress if it hadn’t been for the nights.

They rarely went to bed together since his release; lately he either crashed while she was still preoccupied with her work, or he stayed up later than she could keep her eyes open. But more often than not, the darkness found him wrapped around her, his lips on her neck, in her hair, whispering over her jaw, kissing and nipping and sucking down her body, fingers and mouth brushing over her nipples, stroking between her legs. Under the cover of night he treated her body as if it offered him personal salvation, and she could never say no. She never _wanted_ to say no. As much as she couldn’t understand what allowed him to drop his barriers in the middle of the night, as much as she wanted to scream at him that she needed this, needed him, all the time, she could never help but greedily accept every scrap of love and affection that he offered, whenever he offered it.

So she would strip off her underwear and spread her legs, encouraging him to settle between her thighs, sliding her wetness along his erection, begging him without words to bury himself in her, and he would, positioning himself at her entrance and sliding in, thick and perfect, satisfying a deep, wordless need in them both.

Or she would roll on her stomach and present him with her ass, which would inevitably lead to his fingers tracing over her hips, his hands kneading her firm cheeks, his arm circling around her waist to lift her up, settling his cock against her opening and waiting until she pushed back against him, taking his full length inside her in a single stroke.

Or she would press her fingers against his chest, forcing him onto his back, taking charge of his body, kissing him deeply, running her hands through his hair or twining with his above his head, slipping back and forth along his thick length and making him moan and gasp, taking extra pleasure in making him beg, torturing herself with need because it tortured him too, and in this she knew she was exacting revenge for the cold, empty bed she woke up to every morning and his remote, glancing eyes, but it was a sweet revenge that they both enjoyed, and she could live with that.

And often it was fast and hard and needy, but sometimes it was lingering and gentle, and it was always loving.

Between them it wasn’t possible for it to be anything but loving.

And he would talk to her and she reveled in the sound of his voice telling her what he liked, what he wanted, what he needed. And he would whisper her name.

“Felicity.” And she always knew what he meant by the way he said it.

_I’m sorry._

_Please understand._

_I need you._

_I love you._

And she would reply with the answers he would accept from her, rather than the ones she longed to say. “Oliver. Yes, Oliver.”

 

* * *

  

Oliver was in the warehouse making his way toward the basement and so far, the only people who were aware of his presence were the six men he’d questioned. Only one of them knew about the blonde woman they’d found sneaking around that morning, and he very helpfully explained where Oliver could find her. All of them were now peacefully unconscious, unknowingly awaiting arrest.

He spotted a large, mean-looking man lounging against the door that supposedly led down to the basement where Felicity was being held. Sticking to the shadows, Oliver avoided detection until he was standing directly in front of the thug, an arrow aimed at his heart.

The man’s shock was written all over his face, but all he said was, “You!”

“Keep your voice down.” Oliver pressed his point with the point of his arrow.

“What do you want?”

“Are you holding a woman down there?”

Oliver saw the affirmative in the man’s eyes before he said anything, and he would have knocked him out and proceeded down the stairs immediately if it hadn’t been for his next words.

“You looking for a nice piece of ass? She’s got it, but I’m not sure she’s worth it.” He rolled his eyes in an attempt at male commiseration, heedless of the murderous look in Oliver’s eyes. “Won’t stop running her fucking mouth, that one. But if you like blondes -”

Oliver dragged the arrow up to the thug’s throat, pressing so hard that a drop of blood appeared when he swallowed. “Did you touch her?”

The man shrugged. “Why do you care what I did to some bitch?”

It was then that Oliver knew that no police badge would prevent him from putting an arrow in this guy. He lowered his bow and instead grasped the arrow in his right hand, angling it against the man’s jugular. “Did. You. Touch. Her.”

“No! No, I didn’t, I swear! You can ask her yourself, I didn’t lay a finger on her.”

He lowered his voice and spoke clearly, watching the thug’s face carefully. “For your sake, you better be telling the truth. That woman down there? She’s my wife.” The look of terror that washed over the man’s face was extremely gratifying. “I’m going to go check on her, and if I find that you’re lying to me, I’ll be coming right back to kill you.”

The last expression that registered on the man’s face before Oliver knocked him out was pure horror. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> attention! I messed up posting this chapter and only posted half of it the first time around. I've fixed it, but yeah. READ THE SECOND HALF PLEASE :D thanks and sorry.


	5. Making Room in a Broken Heart

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ATTENTION: when I posted the last chapter (ch. 4), I mistakenly left out the second half. Please go back and make sure you read that part!! 
> 
> Anyway, this is a short chapter, but it was the natural place to stop before The Talk, sorry xD
> 
> I've been updating this pretty quickly throughout the day but there's probably going to be a longer break at this point, since I'm still wrestling with chapter 6. (I know I could have waited longer to post the chapters, but I have no chill). Thanks for all the feedback, loves! Very inspiring ^_^

 

“Felicity.”

She smiled.  _ I love you. _ Although it was a variation she hadn’t heard in a while; not one of the ones he used in the bedroom. This one ended in ellipses, if not a question mark. It demanded a response. “Yes, Oliver?”

She frowned suddenly. Because Oliver wasn’t really here, because she was tied up in a dirty basement waiting to die, and she suddenly felt very silly that she was talking to her hallucinations. Or maybe she shouldn’t care, since she was going to die. And anyway, why was she hallucinating? It wasn’t as if she were drugged or anything like that. 

“Felicity.” 

“Wait, stop interrupting me while I’m still trying to decide why you exist. And whether or not it’s okay for me to be talking to you.”

“Felicity, you’re not hallucinating.” 

“How do you know I think you’re a hallucination unless you really  _ are _ a hallucination, huh?” She smiled triumphantly, and then Oliver’s hands were resting against her arms, except that wasn’t possible because Oliver wasn’t here, except that her eyes flew open at his touch and she found herself staring into a very familiar, very soft, very blue pair of eyes. 

Distinctly amused eyes. “Because you were speaking your thoughts out loud again.”

“Oliver! You’re real! Are you here to rescue me?”

His smiled deepened. “Always.”

Felicity started to smile at his response, until she frowned instead. “Wait. That’s sweet and everything, but it kinda carries the implication that I’m always in need of saving, and….” He was still just gazing at her. “Hi.” She smiled.

“Hi.” 

“Do you think you could untie me? That asshole up there has no respect for my circulation.”

A shadow passed over Oliver’s face, but he quickly and wordlessly cut her bindings, taking a moment to give a few vigorous rubs to her wrists and ankles. Above them, they heard a commotion as the police began to descend upon the compound. Oliver reached up to cup Felicity’s jaw, bringing her focus back to him. “You okay?”

Her heart started to beat rapidly at the way he was looking at her, soft blue eyes trained on her, clear and unwavering. “Yeah.” She nodded rapidly, and the breathlessness in her voice had nothing to do with her recent ordeal, and everything to do with the look in his eyes. “Let’s go home.”

 

* * *

 

As she neared their apartment, Felicity began to feel a returning sense of dread. It had been almost two hours since Oliver had come to her galant rescue, and she hadn’t really had any time alone with him in all that time. Once they’d snuck out of the compound that, at that point, was fully under siege, they’d met up with Dinah and given their statements, including Felicity’s explanation of everything she’d gotten off their computers. She’d promised to send everything she’d downloaded to Evidence as soon as she got home, while Oliver returned to the fray to help the cops. He’d reappeared at her shoulder some time later holding out her tablet and her phone. 

“Oh my god, my babies! I love you!”

A small smile of pleasure lit up his face, and for once he didn’t look down immediately.

“I meant that I love my babies, but don’t worry, I love you too, Oliver.” 

His smile deepened for a second before his eyes dropped self-consciously. 

Well, that was to be expected. They were, after all, currently in public and surrounded by a circle of cops. Anyway, her own playful words reminded her of the Thing that she was currently not telling Oliver. The Thing that she had promised herself she would tell him about just as soon as she didn’t die. The Thing that she hadn’t felt the least bit guilty about withholding until he had looked at her the way he had looked at her in that basement: like he was capable of loving and being loved in return. 

It was the kind of look a husband gave his wife. 

It was the kind of look a father gave his child.

_ Oh frack, _ they were really going to do this.

After that Oliver was called away again, and Felicity got to work on her tablet, pulling more data from the criminal compound and feeding everything she had to the SCPD. They didn’t see each other again for another hour, and then it was only to meet eyes briefly in silent agreement that they were both ready to go home. Then they drove home separately, the way they had come.

And now it was time for her to put her money where her mouth was.


	6. Coming Around Again

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I recommend rereading chapter 5 to set up the scene; it was a short enough chapter, after all ;P
> 
> Anyway, um, there is so, so much talking here. But it’s not entirely my fault because there’s so much they haven’t been saying on the show, and it was NECESSARY. 
> 
> But anyway if talking’s not your jam, come back for the epilogue - that will be mostly fucking, I promise ;)

 

A wave of nerves crashed over Felicity as she keyed into the apartment. He was in the living room, waiting for her. Not sitting. Standing. Waiting for her.

His eyes found hers immediately. “Felicity.”

She took two strides toward him and he was there, his hands wrapping around her elbows, holding her gently apart so he could continue to look at her. The fact that his eyes were on hers, showing her emotion, was almost overwhelming, and a large part of her wanted nothing but to pull him into the bedroom and make love to him in the light of day. But as amazing as that would be, she also knew it would be a stalling tactic, so she swallowed around the dryness in her throat and croaked, “We need to talk.”

Oliver was nodding and pulling her toward the couch almost before the words had left her mouth, making her suspect that he’d made some promises to himself, as well. Which might have made her nervous, except he pressed her into the loveseat and then sat down next to her, rather than taking the chair opposite. She felt choking tears rising in her throat, which was ridiculous, because all he’d done was sit down beside her - something he used to do as a matter of course. Only he hadn’t done it in what felt like years.

She was startled out of her thoughts when he touched her shoulder, and she looked up to see his attention focused on his hand as he ran his fingers lightly down her arm. Felicity felt something hard and brittle inside her begin to crack.

“Felicity, I need to tell you that I’m sorry.” He gave a single nod, still watching the play of his fingers over her skin.

She regarded him silently, caught off guard by his closeness, his touch, his sincerity.

“For...a lot.” He looked up with earnest eyes. “More than I can begin to say right now.” He cleared his throat.

Felicity gave in to her instinctive need to reassure him, though she hardly knew where to begin. “Oliver, you - you’ve gone through a lot, especially lately. I mean I can’t even begin to imagine what Slabside must have been like….”

“It’s not that, Felicity.” He caught her hand in his and they both watched the slow slide of his fingers interlacing with hers, the way his thumb traced along her wrist and over the sensitive skin of her palm. He continued more quietly, “This probably isn’t going to come out right, or in the right order. Everything kind of,” he gestured helplessly, “snowballed. But I wanted to start with today.”

Felicity looked up quickly to find him watching her with cautious eyes.

“About the team, and, and about you as Overwatch.”

Felicity held his gaze, battling conflicting emotions. On the one hand, she was indescribably relieved that he finally seemed ready to address his actions of the past many months. He was opening lines of communication that had been shuttered for so long she’d almost forgotten how effortless it used to be, how natural. And she was relieved that he was clearly planning to hold himself accountable for his behavior.

But on the other hand, there was an underlying electricity to his touch, a steady burn in his eyes that was already telling her what she really needed to know - that he saw her, that he loved her, that he needed her. And if she was honest with herself, that was the subject she really felt like pursuing.

But Oliver was hesitating, obviously waiting for permission to continue, and she could tell he had more things he needed to get off his chest, so instead she prompted, “You got upset when I mentioned the team. When I revealed that I’ve been wanting us all to work together again. But why?”

He considered her for a long moment, clearly trying to figure out how to formulate his answer. His eyes dropped to his lap as he said, tentatively, “I know you weren’t happy with my...decision...to go to prison.” He flicked his eyes up to see her reaction before lowering them again.

Felicity’s breath caught in her throat. Of all the things he might have said, she hadn’t expected him to go _there._

“And I also know we haven’t talked about it. And you haven’t pushed me to.” He eyed her again, lingering this time. “Though you had every right.”

Felicity felt caught by his simmering gaze, reading the naked guilt and regret that he intended her to see, but also the desperation and need that he wasn’t trying to hide. His words skated right up to the boundary between her anger and his remorse, provoking her, pushing against the wound that was still raw even after all these months. She stared at him for a long moment, heart pounding, wondering whether he was seeking punishment or forgiveness. Wondering if he even knew.

Oliver shook his head in frustration, coming to a sudden decision. “I’m not doing this right.” He shifted forward in his seat abruptly, reaching out and cupping her face in both his hands.

Felicity gasped, all at once finding herself engulfed in his bottomless blue eyes. She caught her breath under a searching gaze that lasted for a long, long moment. “Oliver.” He was looking at her like he needed her to know that she was the only thing he saw.  

He blinked slowly, his eyes dropping to her lips as the gravity of their connection pulled his mouth toward hers. He took a hitching breath. “Felicity, tell me I can kiss you.”

She nodded against his palms and a moment later his lips were on hers, soft and reverent. She opened her mouth instinctively, brushing the tip of her tongue against his in invitation, but he leaned back, opening his eyes to meet hers.

“I love you.” His attention remained fully fixed on her face, which he still held urgently in the cradle of his hands. “That’s the most important thing.”

She was nodding along with his words, absorbed by the earnest intensity in his eyes.

“That’s the thing I really need you to understand. That you’re my partner.”

“Oliver, yes.”

He sighed in relief, moving from urgency to conviction. “My partner in - in everything. And I just... _need you.”_

She reached out to him, laying her fingertips along his cheeks, mirroring the way he was holding her. “I’m here, Oliver,” she whispered. “I’ve always been here -”

“I know.” He took a shuddering breath. “I know.” He held her gaze for the space of several heartbeats, letting her see his vulnerability, before taking her hands in his and sitting back.

Felicity waited quietly, sensing he was gathering his thoughts and his nerve.

“I realized something about myself today. Something important.” He lifted their clasped hands to his lips, pressing a series of kisses to her knuckles before dropping his gaze to where he placed them in his lap. “I realized that, since last year, since everything started to fall apart, I’ve been afraid. Scared of letting people _rely_ on me. The city, the team, my family...you.” His eyes flickered momentarily to her face. “Because one by one, no matter how hard I tried, I have failed every single one of you.”

And Felicity could tell how heavily his guilt had weighed on him by the way his eyes flickered up to hers, awaiting her reaction, her judgment. But she remained silent, refusing to condemn him.

“Which is why I’ve been uncomfortable about things going back to how they were. Because I’m afraid that, given the opportunity, I’ll just fail you all again.” He dragged his eyes up to meet hers. “And I know that just realizing this now doesn’t mean that anything’s fixed; I know there’s a lot left to deal with.” He nodded. “But I know it’s going to be okay, because of the other thing I realized today.”

The intensity of his gaze left her breathless. “Which is what?” She felt his hands slide over her shoulders as he gathered her toward him, and she surrendered her body to his control.

“That I will never fail if I let you be on my side.” He pulled her into his lap and she came willingly, throwing a leg over his hip so she straddled him, face to face. She blinked at the sudden intimacy, but he kept speaking without missing a beat. “The same instinct that makes me want to distance myself from everyone, for everyone’s protection, had me pushing you away, too, because I’m more afraid of failing you than anyone.”

He bit his lip, watching his words register in her expression. Felicity reached up and cradled his face with soothing fingers.

“But you’re _my partner_ and today I realized what that really means. It means that you need me just as much as I need you, and that if I lose you, you’re losing me too, and the only way that could ever happen is if one of us walks away.” His voice fell to a whisper. “Or shuts the other one out.”

Felicity nodded, dropping her forehead against his and closing her eyes against the emotion brimming in his eyes, letting her own tears spill down her cheeks. It was almost too much.

But Oliver wasn’t done speaking. “I realized that if we agree to not do that, then we’ll never truly fail each other. And because you are the smartest, strongest, most determined person I know, if you’re with me, then I can’t fail either. If it’s us, instead of just me. If I’m not alone.”

She pulled back at that, pinning him with steady eyes. “Oliver, you’re _not_ alone. You’ve _never_ been alone. Not since the day,” his eyes softened at her words as a flicker of memory crossed his face, “not since the day we met.” She pressed their joined hands over his heart. “Okay?”

He was watching her earnestly, a slow smile overtaking his face. “Okay. Partners, Felicity. In everything. You’re not just _on_ my team; you _are_ my team. And a necessary part of me.”

Felicity leaned forward, prodding. “Yes, and?”

A look of confusion crossed his face. “And?”

She took his chin in her hand, waiting for his full attention. “And you are a necessary part of me, Oliver. It goes both ways.”

He nodded, but she sensed hesitation in his eyes. “I need you to say it.”

“Felicity…”

“Oliver, say it!”

He gave her an exasperated look but then cast his eyes down, taking the time to really consider the words. She witnessed the change in his face the instant he let himself really believe it, and she knew they were going to be okay.

He sought and held her gaze for a long moment as slow smiles spread over their faces, anticipating his words. “I am a necessary part of you.”

After a beat, Felicity’s smile shifted, her solemnity suddenly giving way to a weightless sense of joy. “Partners.”

Oliver’s face lit up as he caught her attitude. “Partners.”

And his goofy smile, which she was almost certain she hadn’t seen in years, went straight to her heart, obliterating all sense of restraint. “Oh god, Oliver, I love you.” She fell against him, crashing her lips into his as he instantly caught his arms around her and crushed her to his body.

“I love you, too,” he mumbled against her mouth between enthusiastic kisses, and Felicity felt the words resonate deep in her heart.

She felt their resonance in other places of her body, too, helped along by Oliver’s hands dipping under her shirt and his lips traveling over the sensitive spots on her neck, and she nearly forgot the promise she’d made to herself.

She lifted her arms instinctively, letting him pull her shirt over her head in a practiced motion as she rolled her hips satisfyingly against his prominent, and promising, erection. “I missed you.”

“Felicity….” He buried his hands in her hair, pulling her attention back to his face. He was wearing that look again, that bottomless gaze of adoration, and she felt herself sinking into it, giving in to the pull of his body, and they were absolutely on track to finally make love in the light of day until all at once she was struck by the thought of her task, causing her to pull back abruptly.

“Oliver!”

To say Oliver was startled by her sudden outburst would be an understatement. He blinked at her, eyes wide in confusion and alarm. “Felicity?”

Felicity opened her mouth to reassure him, but words temporarily failed her.  

He laid his hand on her cheek and gave her a searching look. “What’s going on? Is everything all right?”

Felicity blinked at him, nodding slowly to reassure him, but helpless to erase the look of distress from her face.

“Felicity, talk to me. Please.”

Guilt washed over her as she recognized the barely-restrained panic in his voice, and she took a deep, composing breath.

“Tell me you’re okay.”

Her eyes shifted back to his face immediately. “I’m okay. I am. We’re okay.”

“Okay…?”

“Remember how I said we needed to talk?”

“Yes...and we did talk. Didn’t we?”

“No. I mean, yes. We talked, Oliver, but it was more like you talked, and I listened.”

Oliver’s brows drew together in confusion. “Felicity, I -”

“No, I didn’t mean it like that, like you didn’t _let_ me talk. The talking was great, I promise, there was nothing wrong with the way we talked.”

Oliver was shaking his head at her, more perplexed than ever.

Felicity let out a noise of frustration. “We both talked, and I’m very glad, but there was something else I wanted to talk about. Something in particular that I needed to...to tell you.”

Something about the way she said it caused that panicked look to appear on Oliver’s face again, but Felicity wasn’t at all sure it wasn’t warranted this time.

She met his eyes, holding up her index finger between them. “Give me one second.”

He nodded, the look of worry on face now seemingly permanent.

Felicity tipped her head back to stare at the ceiling, noting that Oliver instinctively placed supportive hands around her back. She leaned slightly back into his hold, enjoying the sense of security he offered, the quiet demonstration of their trust in each other. She released a long breath. She could do this. They could do this.

She lowered her head, biting her lip as she met his slightly terrified eyes. _Shit._ She was really going to do this. “Oliver.” Her eyes drifted away from his as she considered her words, and a slow smile stole over her face. But then she thought of William, of the fact that he had just chosen to live apart from them because of how unstable their lives were, and a new rush of anxiety washed over her.

“Felicity...please.”

His anguished whisper had her attention snapping back to him, to the naked fear in his eyes, and she realized all at once just how cruel she was being by leaving him hanging. “Right! Oliver, I’m sorry! You must think...oh god, what must you be thinking?” She raised her eyebrows. “I’m sure you’re not thinking what I’m thinking, nope, this is going to come as a total surprise!” She cut herself off with a small hysterical laugh, returning Oliver’s deer-in-the-headlights look with an identical one of her own.

The moment stretched uncomfortably, neither of them sure how to break their seeming impasse, until Felicity saw true terror blooming in Oliver’s eyes again, and she felt a sudden and urgent need to spare him the fear of the unknown.

“I’m pregnant!”

She blurted the words loudly and then stared at him in the silence that followed, watching for any sort of reaction. For what felt like an extended amount of time he didn’t give any indication that he’d understood her words at all.

“Oliver? Say something.”

He blinked and then suddenly he was Oliver again, looking at her, seeing her, and she sensed that he was holding some huge emotion in check, waiting for the right moment to release it. “You’re pregnant?” His voice was tight, strangled. Whatever he was feeling, it was big.

She bit her lip and gave a single nod.

“You’re sure?” This time he was slightly breathless, and Felicity was starting to get a good feeling about his impending reaction.

When she didn’t respond right away, he brought one hand to her cheek, using the other to push the hair out of her face. “Felicity?”

She nodded against his palm, falling into his warm, searching eyes. “Yeah.” She felt tears pricking the backs of her eyes. “I’m sure.”

And then the emotions he’d been holding back broke over him, and they were all good things, the best things, joy and wonder and excitement lighting his eyes and curving his mouth and spilling down his cheeks. The same emotions she’d been suppressing, concealing in her heart for days.

“Oh my god, Felicity.” He was looking at her with that goofy smile again, with those adoring eyes brimming with awe and a new kind of love, and Felicity felt her residual fear and anxiety slowly melting away.

“You’re happy?” She whispered the words knowing the answer, but needing him to confirm it anyway.

He laughed at the seeming absurdity of the question, pulling her face toward his and kissing her deeply. “Yes, Felicity,” he whispered into her mouth, before pressing one, two more soft kisses against her lips. “So, so happy.”

Felicity laughed at his exuberance, letting it fan the soft glow of her own happiness that she was still only just beginning to let herself feel.

He pulled away so he could look her in the eyes again, his features lit with elation. “How are you? Are you okay? Is this okay?” He swallowed, obviously having difficulty reconciling his concern with his happiness.

Felicity rushed to reassure him. “I’m good, Oliver. I’m fine.” The smile on her face was soft and subdued, but it was genuine.

He cupped her chin in his hand, angling her face up to look at him. “Felicity, are _you_ happy?”

She nodded, letting her tears spill over her cheeks. “Yes. Oliver, yes. I’m sorry.” She ran a hand over her face, as if she could convince him of her happiness by wiping away her tears. “I just, I’ve been worried about your reaction, and...I guess I’m just a little overwhelmed right now.”

Oliver studied her for a moment longer, his eyes soft and understanding and filled with so much love that Felicity was certain she was about to start sobbing, except at the last moment Oliver pulled her tightly against his chest, burying his face in her hair, and the solid feel of him under her, the steady rise and fall of his breath, the warmth of his hands on her skin and his breath in her hair, was exactly what she needed to calm her down.

To convince her that they were going to be okay.

That this was something he wanted, something he’d yearned for. With her.

And to awaken the deep certainty that this was something she’d always wanted too, with him.

She inhaled a deep breath of his scent, enjoying the feeling of being held in the firm, loving arms of her husband. The father of her child.

And she believed in them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this one took a long time. When I started writing this story, I SWEAR it was not my intention to try to solve Olicity, but somehow that's kinda what I tried to do in this last chapter. Basically, solving cold fusion would have been easier (did I already use that reference? it's been rolling around my head for like two days as I've struggled to write this chapter; sorry if I already said that somewhere else). Anyway, I hope this chapter was satisfactory. (I honestly have no idea. I've rewritten and reread it so many times now that it's just words words words.)
> 
> Thank goodness the only thing I have planned for the epilogue is sex. ^_^


	7. So In Love With You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Everyone, I must apologize. I have failed this chapter. I _promised_ you smut and I have delivered fluff instead. 
> 
> See end notes for further excuses. ;)

 

Felicity could sense the morning light filtering into the bedroom, but she didn’t open her eyes, instead letting her mind drift over the events of yesterday, before he’d carried her to bed.

“Okay, so I’ve done some initial Googling about activities, foods, etc. that I should avoid, along with healthy habits and doctors appointments and things like that, but I haven’t actually gotten started on most of it because, well...because I guess I was waiting to tell you before it became really _real._ But now that you know, it’s _really, really,_ real, like I think it’s a little _too_ real, and -”

“Felicity.” He halted her pacing by placing his hands on her shoulders. “Why don’t you show me what you found on healthy foods, and I’ll make us some dinner, okay?” His steady gaze caught her and held her until she began to calm down.  
“Yeah, okay.” Unconsciously, she began to match her breathing with his.

“And you can start researching OB/GYNs and scheduling appointments. Sound good?”

“Yes. Good.”

“Good.”

He continued to gaze at her, and Felicity found herself getting lost in the wonder of his eyes. “Oliver?”

“Yeah?” He matched her hushed tone, letting his eyes fall momentarily to her lips.

The corners of her mouth turned up in a tentative smile. “This is going to be amazing, isn’t it?”

Oliver’s breath caught at the look on her face. “So amazing, Felicity. Unbelievably amazing, I….” He shook his head, at a loss for words.

Felicity didn’t need any more reassurance than that, as her eyes dropped to his full mouth and she stepped into his embrace, wrapping her arms around his neck and raising up on her toes.

Oliver bent his head down to meet her lips, kissing her softly and sliding his hands down her body before lifting her off the ground and spinning her in a slow circle.

 *

 Later, Oliver started preparing Chicken Parmigiana while Felicity sat at the counter on her tablet.  

“I’m gonna do it.”

Oliver gave her an encouraging look. “You should.”

“In just...one...second.”

“Felicity. She’s going to be happy.”

Felicity scoffed. “Are you kidding? She’s going to be ecstatic! She’s going to be a _monster._ You think her engagement party planning was excessive? Part of me thinks she was only practicing for this. I call her, chances are good that she’ll be on a plane within the hour.”

Oliver almost managed to hide his instinctive cringe. “Maybe you can convince her to hold off just a week or two?” He bit his bottom lip and cocked his head charmingly. “But call her.”

Felicity pursed her lips in an exaggerated pout that evaporated quickly under the warmth of his gaze. “Fine.”

Oliver turned to wash his hands and then came over stand behind her, draping his arms around her neck and resting his lips against her hair as she picked up her phone to Facetime with Donna.

After sharing in the initial announcement, Oliver pulled away from the conversation to finish making dinner. At some point Donna brought out a book of baby names - why she had it, neither Oliver nor Felicity dared ask - and started alphabetically going through and weighing the pros and cons of each name, one by one. By the time Oliver had finished cooking and was setting the table, they’d only reached “Abigail” and Felicity’s eyes looked like they were going pop out of her head.

He came up behind her and leaned into the frame. “Donna, we’re gonna go now. Dinner’s ready, and -”

“Oliver, honey, we’re not finished yet! My baby’s having a baby, and since _I’m not allowed to come visit,”_ she narrowed her eyes pointedly, “I’m just going to have to do all my doting over the phone -”

“Mom, I told you. We just need a little bit of time to ourselves -”

“Donna,” Oliver cut in again, “dinner’s ready, and Felicity’s eating for two now. We have to go.”

That caught her attention. “Oh my god, baby girl, you need to eat! We’ll talk more about names later. Oliver, take care of my daughter and my grandbaby! Felicity, listen to your husband. And both of you, remember that pregnant sex -”

“Goodbye, mom!”

“Oh, okay. Goodbye I guess. I love you, sweetheart! I can’t believe you’re going to have a baby!”

“We love you! Goodbye!” Felicity disconnected the call quickly, turning to Oliver with wide eyes. “Thank you.”  She dropped her forehead against his chest, inhaling deeply.

He turned his cheek into her hair, pulling her into a hug. “Any time.”

Her reply was muffled against his chest. “My hero.”

He huffed a laugh, tightening his arms around her. “Always, Felicity.”

 *

 They ate with the lights on because, even as resilient as they both were, it was going to take awhile before candlelit dinners would inspire anything but bad memories for either of them.

When they’d finished, Felicity sat back and watched Oliver clear the dirty dishes from the table, suspecting that he was enjoying the chance to dote on her, too. “Sometimes I really have to hand it to myself,” she drawled, watching his retreating posterior. “I snagged myself an excellent husband.”

Oliver paused as he was stacking plates, his suspicious eyes catching hers.

Felicity raised a playful eyebrow at him. “Handsome. Heroic. _Really good in bed._ And a master chef. Good job, Felicity.”

Oliver rolled his eyes in a vain attempt to cover the smile that was pulling at his lips. “Okay.”

“And modest! I forgot to mention modest.”

She was answered by the clatter of dishes in the sink, but she could tell by the flush on his skin that he liked her teasing a lot more than he let on.

She watched as he rolled up his sleeves and began to rinse and stack dishes, the picture of masculine domesticity. She felt a little guilty not helping, but she couldn’t seem to tear her eyes away from contemplating his broad shoulders, his forearms, the back of his neck as he bent over his task. “So, so handsome,” she murmured.

“What was that?”

“Oh, nothing, I just...don’t wash all those dishes without me. I’m coming to help.”

“No, Felicity, stay there. Dessert.”

“What? Oliver, no -”

He pinned her with commanding eyes, effectively shutting her up and making her wonder exactly _what kind_ of dessert he had in mind.

A question she must have spoken out loud. “You’ll see very soon. Just sit tight.”

Felicity sighed, thinking she’d had more than enough tight sitting that morning, but deciding, wisely, to keep those thoughts to herself.

Her patience was rewarded a minute later when Oliver returned to the dining table carrying a tray that held two souffles. Two perfect souffles that instantly reminded her of another time, a moment that had only gained significance after the fact. But oh, _what significance._

Her breath caught and she blurted the first thing that came to her mind. “Oliver, we’re _already married!”_

His startled eyes snapped to hers, and he raised an amused eyebrow. “I know, Felicity.”

“But...souffles!”

He set the tray down and eased into the chair next to her, taking her hand. “Souffles aren’t some culinary code for marriage proposals, hon.”

She blinked at him. “For me they are.”

She watched his expression melt into that warm glow again. There had been a lot of that today. Not that she was complaining. “It might be more accurate if you revise your code to include all important moments in our family.”

She smiled into his eyes, the word echoing between them as they watched each other comprehend its expanded meaning: from once having included just the two of them, to stretching to include William, and now, to encompass this new life they had created together.

“Felicity,” he glanced down at their clasped hands and paused for a long moment to watch his thumb stroke over her wedding ring. He cleared his throat and looked back into her face. “I need you to know that when I decided to ask you to marry me all those years ago, I didn’t know what the future would bring.” The corners of his mouth lifted in bittersweet recognition of all the things that had passed between them since then. “I didn’t know about William, and we hadn’t really talked about kids.” Absently, his fingers began stroking over her ring again as his voice rose in certainty. “But I knew I wanted to marry you regardless, because to me it didn’t matter whether you wanted kids or not; _you_ were the family I needed - the _only_ family I _needed_ \- and everything else was bonus.”

Felicity’s breath caught and she unconsciously swayed toward Oliver, drawn in by his intensity.  

“But I also knew, as certainly as I know that I love you, that with your _capacity_ to -” he took a hitching breath, “to _love,_ you would be the best mother in the whole world - if you wanted to be.”

He nodded his head in certainty as Felicity lifted her free hand to his jaw, needing more contact.

“The _only_ mother I would ever want for my kids. So for me there was no choice to make. And Felicity, that’s still true.”

Felicity blinked to clear her vision, letting silent tears fall down her face as she realized just how much she’d needed to hear him say this. “Oliver.” She didn’t have other words to express how his words had touched her, but his gentle smile seemed to convey that he understood. “Thank you.” It went far to ease her hidden fears - almost, but not quite, far enough. “But after everything that’s happened, how can you say that? I let you down, Oliver. I let William down, and now -”

“Felicity, no. As a mother to William, you have _more_ than lived up to my expectations. I have watched in amazement as he has opened up and grown under your love.” He bit his lip and laughed self-consciously. “Which is just the effect you have on us Queen men, I guess.”

Felicity acknowledged his comment with a nod, but she was too busy hanging onto his words, his conviction, to smile.

He raised her hand to his lips and kissed her ring, silently emphasizing his words. “I am more certain than ever that you are the only mother I ever want for my children, Felicity. I have loved William from the moment I first saw him, but it was _you_ who made us a family. And no matter what happens, we will always be a family.”

Felicity swallowed, wanting to believe him but still needing more assurance. “But we couldn’t give him the life he needed, Oliver. You didn’t say it, but you didn’t have to - I know you’re worried just like I am: how can we be a family if we -”

“I’m not worried anymore, Felicity. William will come back to us when he’s ready, but we’re a family whether or not we’re together. The only thing that could make it more perfect,” he reached out and placed a reverent hand on her stomach, “is this.” His deep blue eyes swept up to hers, swimming with emotion, and he struggled to push his words out over a rising sob. “That you will have a baby of your own, that, that I get to be the father of _your_ baby, it’s...Felicity.” His voice cracked on her name and he shook his head, unabashed tears standing in his eyes. “I never believed I could be this lucky. I never dared to hope.”

Felicity regarded him for a long moment, matching her breaths with his and soaking in his optimism. “How can you be so calm about this?”

Oliver shrugged, his lips curving into a watery smile. “I have you.”

Felicity’s eyes shifted between his as she chewed on her bottom lip. “Oliver…”

“Yeah?”

She wet her lips. “Let’s go make a baby.”

Oliver huffed out a surprised laugh. “You’re already pregnant, Felicity, I don’t think it works like that.”

“Shh, Oliver,” she whispered, kissing his neck, “let me try.”

He leaned down to pick her up and she wrapped her legs around him helpfully as her mouth nipped along his neck. “Okay, but what about these souffles?”

She took his earlobe in her teeth and caressed it with her tongue. “One dessert at a time, babe.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Further notes about this story:
> 
> Okay so normally I have trouble keeping things from getting smutty, but this time just the opposite happened! No matter how much I tried to get to the fucking, the fluff and feelings kept getting in the way! The smut just would not come. (All possible puns _absolutely_ intended).
> 
> I did write a _lot_ of smut for this chapter, but none of it felt right, so ultimately I decided to post the fluffy ending, and _maybe,_ without the pressure to perform, I will still post a smutty epilogue at some point in the future. If the mood strikes. 
> 
> A note about the show: 
> 
> Honestly if Arrow doesn't show Oliver addressing his shit - his prison-related trauma that supposedly Stephen Amell is consciously portraying - _before_ they show us happy dad-to-be Oliver, IMMA BE _MAD_. Like if they use his excitement about the baby as the vehicle for his overcoming said trauma??? I'm honestly going to go on some kinda rampage, okay? Okay. Because that would just be irresponsible story telling. 
> 
> Anyway.
> 
> Thanks for reading! *mwah!*

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, it's me again! So yes, I know I have - SQUIRREL! - other stories to finish, but it seems I couldn't focus on anything until I got this one out of my system. Season 7 is taking us for a ride, my friends. Those of you who know me know that I am definitely "waiting and hoping," but even I can admit that SOME THINGS ARE OVERDUE TO BE ADDRESSED. 
> 
> I attempted to address them here. I hope you enjoy(ed)! As always...please let me know if you liked it! That is the absolute best and most effective motivation for a writer, I promise. ^_^ 
> 
> (BTW, I'm posting this as a WIP but I'm just putting the finishing touches on the last chapter so the whole thing should be complete in a couple hours).
> 
> Okay, other stuff:  
> 1\. This was absolutely meant to be a short, uncomplicated story - a chapter in my season 7 one-shot collection "Hearts and Scars," but when it grew up into a multi-chapter I had no choice but to set it free to go live its life as a separate story. Whoops.  
> 2\. The first song lyric used here is from "Everything She Wants" by Wham!  
> 3\. The second lyric is from "Prove My Love" by the Violent Femmes  
> 4\. The title of the work (and the chapter titles) are abstracted from Carly Simon's "Coming Around Again," and here are the lyrics:
> 
> Baby sneezes  
> Mommy pleases  
> Daddy breezes in
> 
> So good on paper  
> So romantic  
> But so bewildering
> 
> I know nothing stays the same  
> But if you're willing to play the game  
> It's coming around again
> 
> So don't mind if I fall apart  
> There's more room in a broken heart 
> 
> You pay the grocer  
> Fix the toaster  
> You kiss the host goodbye
> 
> Then you break a window  
> Burn the souffle  
> Scream a lullaby
> 
> I know nothing stays the same  
> But if you're willing to play the game  
> It's coming around again
> 
> So don't mind if I fall apart  
> There's more room in a broken heart 
> 
> And I believe in love  
> But what else can I do  
> I'm so in love with you
> 
> 5\. COME BE MY FRIEND ON [ TUMBLR!](https://allimariexf.tumblr.com) (allimariexf.tumblr.com if the link doesn't work)


End file.
